Yeah, about second chances
by Not Just a Nerd
Summary: In which ten years have passed since Mary let Marshall go on his request, and now he's back in the picture again. One-shot. Explores the friendship instead of the pairing.


**Disclaimer: I obviously do not own In Plain Sight, no matter how ridiculously close to Mary's life my own life is. The quote at the end is from the show, one of my favorites. **

**Reviews would be great! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Sorry, Peter , but I don't think I can make it this weekend." Mary Shanon struggled to balance her cell phone between her ear and her shoulder, while her hands worked frantically on the spaghetti on her stove. Spaghetti for dinner wasn't her favourite option, but her daughter had refused to eat take out <em>again<em>.

"Mary", Peter sighed. "You said that last week too. Look, if money is the issue-"

"-It's not", she snapped quickly, mentally chuckling at how her hefty salary allowed her to never take money for child support and how she could teach her daughter that independent women don't need men to pay their bills. Three weeks later, her daughter crashed a date because she wouldn't let the guy pay for their hot-dogs, and when she came home, she and Mary high-fived and used _select _language to mock the guy- and men in general. "Gee, Peter, I know I don't have a job or anything, but I can always afford a plane ticket. I mean, there's always prostitution."

"Brandi really wants you to be here", Peter reasoned instead, knowing he was no good at a sarcasm war with the goddess of snark. "It's our first child. She's understandably a little nervous. Jinx is doing great looking after her. But she needs you, Mary."

Mary scoffed. "She doesn't need me. She's all grown up now. She'll be okay."

"_Mum! The remote isn't working again! Where the hell did you keep the extra batteries?" _came a voice from inside her apartment.

Mary only turned her head slightly to face the direction from which the voice was coming and yelled back. "In case you didn't notice, squirt, I DON'T OWN A BATTERY STORE!"

"_Maybe you should! Maybe that's something you'll be half good at! Unlike cooking!"_

"Like you're such an expert!"

"_I don't burn my sandwiches!"_

"That was _one_ time!"

"_The one time you tried to make a sandwich!"_

"I thought this conversation was about batteries."

"_I thought you were on the phone."_

Peter cringed. Is that what it would be like when their yet-to-be-born daughter turned twelve too or is it strictly one of those Mary Shannon only things?

"So, yeah", Mary returned her attention to the call, knowing her daughter was smart enough to take the batteries out of the wall clock and made do with them for now. "I haven't been in Albuquerque in ten years, and I'm not going back this weekend. Suck it up, woman."

"Running away. Typical Shannon trait." Peter mocked, referring to the time when they had planned a wedding and Brandi had run away. It hurt too much and it took a lot of time to get back together again, but in the end, their love won.

"I was transferred!" Mary protested. But she knew he was right. She had _insisted_ on the transfer, blackmailing Stan with every piece of dirt she ever had against him to pull some strings and get her the hell out of that fucking town. And she had never looked back.

Peter didn't know what else to say. "Look, just think about it, okay?"

"Okay", Mary said quickly and hung up the call without the pleasantries.

* * *

><p>There had been whispers about her new boss for a long time now. He was being transferred from some other town in a very hush-hush manner. Nobody knew his name. Just that, he was some recently divorced guy. Partially bald. And he had once shot a cartel boss or something. And uh, he seemed to be gay. Yeah, rumors do such a great job at spreading than actual relevant information.<p>

"If you don't like gossip, why do you listen?" Her daughter had asked once.

"You think Patrick will ever shut up?" Mary had countered, shuddering at the thought of her current partner. He was good. He was great. He couldn't read her mind or tell her what to do with her life and he took her daughter to football games with his kids sometimes and his wife made these amazing blueberry muffins for her every other week. It was all okay.

Norah had smirked. "The Great Mary Shannon can't scare a guy enough to be quiet?"

She had rolled her eyes and mumbled something under her breathe about how "I can't even shut you up these days."

Weeks had passed, and finally she was about to meet the new boss. She took a deep breath before she entered the office, mentally prepared for the "I don't know how things were running here before, but now, everything is about to change" clichéd crap speech that the bosses gave before they eventually gave up on it and went with the flow and started worshipping the Great God of Sloth in the end. Instead, she got pin-drop silence, with everyone at their desks, working.

Patrick greeted her quickly. "Mary!" He half-whispered, and motioned her to come to their desk- which, thankfully, was in its usual position and untouched. That's a good start; maybe she won't hate this boss so much after all?

Mary walked over to him, and stared blankly, waiting for an explanation or a bit of too-much-information. All she got was a "The boss wants to see you, NOW" instead.

The urgency in his tone made her take extra slow steps, and she considered the option of not knocking, but ultimately did anyway.

She waited a moment. No response. She was about to break in anyway, when the door opened, revealing the mysterious boss she had waited so long to meet.

"_Marshall_?" Her initial shock left her speechless for about fifteen seconds before her reflexes kicked in. "What happened to your hair? Did a mishap with the curling iron turn you bald?"

"Nice to see you too, Mary." He smiled.

* * *

><p>"So you know this guy?" Her daughter asked over the dinner that she had herself thankfully cooked this time. It was just bacon, or what she claimed was supposed to be bacon anyway, but they didn't mind.<p>

"Yeah, he was my old partner at Albuquerque. No big deal." Mary answered with a full mouth.

"How come you never talk about him?" The clever creature questioned, her lips curling upwards with the hint of a grin. "Is it an ex-partner or just an ex?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "How many men have I slept with in all these years, squish?"

"We're talking about back then. I was an unplanned pregnancy."

Mary scoffed. "Unplanned? Unwanted. You're making me miserable."

Norah scoffed back, mentally amused at how much of a dysfunctional relationship they had. She wasn't the typical "do this, don't do that, I'm grounding you" mum. When she was three, her mother had told her that she wasn't gonna lie to her, ever, and had, ever since, one by one, opened her eyes to the horrors of the world. Santa isn't real, kids get kidnapped, there are no monsters in the closet, just cold blooded murderers on the street, drugs are awesome till the time they kill you, and the Jonas Brothers were just another boy band from back then, nothing special- these were some of her words of wisdom over the years. She was never scolded for answering back against an adult when she was wrong, and her sarcasm was always awarded with a high-five. The result was that Norah Shannon could tell her mother anything and everything in the world without the fear of being judged or unfairly punished or comforted with lies and she never had to silently tolerate the bullshit of the world. She was grounded firmly in the realm of reality with no fairytale expectations from her life, her grades were all straight As so she could go to med-school one day and no boy in the entire middle school could ever hurt her. "I love you too, mum." She snapped back.

"Did you get me the bottle of red wine then?"

"What did you think I marinated with?"

"Your recipes are weird."

"And we're off the topic again. Tell me about this Marshall Mann."

"Uh, there's nothing to say." Mary paused for a moment, selecting her words carefully so as to not invite further inquiries. "We were partners. He got married, I moved, we lost touch."

"Oh?"

"How eloquent, Norah." Mary rolled her eyes, knowing her daughter was pressing for more. "He's okay."

And okay was really the definition of things between them right now. He had motioned her to come into the office and closed the door behind them. She had sat down on his chair before being offered a seat in front of him, picked up his pen and started twirling it between her fingers while she studied him closely for his changes, and placed her legs on his desk when he protested, before he finally gave up.

_This was what she was running from?_

"You can email back sometimes, you know." Marshall accused, referring to the emails he sent her every week, even now, the ones he knew she read but never replied to.

Mary chuckled. "You told me to let you go, Marshall. And I did."

Marshall shook his head. So they were having this conversation. "I never wanted us to stop _talking _or being friends. All I wanted was a little space while I worked things out with Abigail."

She chuckled again. "That went so well. How much did little miss brunette Barbie rip you off in alimony?"

He decided not to answer that, and asked her something else instead. "You're okay with this, right?"

Mary grinned evilly. She knew she had him where she wanted him. "Why did she divorce you anyway? Did you find you talking to your dolls?"

"Action figures", he corrected, before he repeated, "You're okay with this, right?"

"Do I have a choice?" Mary pointed out correctly. "Can I kill you if I don't like this and dispose the body in a septic tank?"

"Ha-ha-ha", he replied dryly, "Okay then."

"Okay."

And then they were both busy with their work for the rest of the day, he had asked her to hang out and catch up during the weekend, she had responded with a no but no further explanation, and gone home merrily. It was all okay.

* * *

><p>Mary hated lying in bed at nights, awake, aware and restlessly turning from side to side to shake off the unwanted thoughts in her head. She was scared of the dark, and not in a little girl way.<p>

Mary's mind was filled with snapshots of the last twelve or so years of her life. Abigail. Norah's birth. Marshall's wedding. Norah in Abigail's arms on a Thanksgiving dinner at Marshall's house that she was for some reason invited into. Catching Peter and Brandi kissing and almost shooting them both for keeping their reunion a secret. The opening of Jinx's own school. Her sudden transfer. Marshall's calls over the weekend. Her not answering his calls over the next few weekends. Norah's first day at school. Mark's quarterly visits. Marshall's emails that she read and deleted. Norah's first big injury- falling down from a see-saw and breaking her left arm. Stan's retirement. Patrick's son's extravagant tenth birthday. It was all there, random little pieces all fitting together to form her life.

And in the gaps between them, were the nights when she cried herself to sleep, or the mornings when she almost dialed Marshall's number and asked for his help, or the curses she devoutly shot in his direction in her head every single day.

Mary had anticipated the next day for the rest of the night, worked out a plan in her head to avoid Marshall all day and had succeeded in it. What she hadn't counted on was Norah visiting for lunch. Her mouth hung open. She should have seen this coming, damn it! "I'm busy. Get out."

"Shut up. I'm not here for you." Was all she said before she quickly crossed over to Marshall's office and poked her head in. "May I come in?"

He looked up from the swan origami he was in the middle of making from his used lunch box, and was utterly confused. "Uh, sure. Do I know you?"

Norah stepped inside, locked the door behind her, and smiled. "You tell me that. I'm Norah Shannon. Ring a bell?"

He studied her face then, the little resemblance it had to Mary's, with Jinx's nose and Brandi's eyes and a chin he presumed was from the father. And then he spotted the diamond pendant hanging from her neck. "I gave you that on your first birthday."

"We _have_ met then." She sat down in a chair straight in front of him, finally catching her mother's one half-lie- _I got that pendant from a grumpy old man_. "And you have clearly never heard the term _choking hazard_ then."

Marshall chuckled. "Your mother didn't give you that till you were old enough." And then a fear crawled into him. "Did she?"

Norah sighed sadly. "Yeah, she did. The doctor's had to get it out of my throat. They didn't think I'll make it. I don't remember, but it was bad. I think."

Marshall's face was filled with pure horror.

Norah grinned. "You're an idiot. I like you."

The horror never left his face. Mary's daughter was just as evil as her. And she was messing with him too. _Of course_. "So why would you give someone else's daughter a diamond pendant? Please don't tell me you're my real father. I don't wanna inherit baldness."

Marshall finally relaxed in his chair, laying back and reclining half-way. "No, I'm not. Mary was my best friend."

Norah gasped. "She had a _friend_?"

"Like you said, I'm an idiot."

And just like that, they quickly fell into an easy friendship.

* * *

><p>"Do you love him?" Norah asked that dinner- take out for once.<p>

"_NO",_ Mary replied in absolute horror and with absolute conviction in her voice.

"Then what's the big problem?" She failed to understand. Marshall seemed like an okay guy, with all the stories he told her about the adventures he and her mother had back when they were partners.

Mary sighed. Yeah, her daughter was only twelve, but she was mature enough to understand. "You're not supposed to abandon your best friend because of your girlfriend."

Norah laughed. "Everyone does that, mum. Jane forgot me when she started dating Derek. I didn't panic. She came right back when he broke her heart."

"And did you take her back?"

"Yeah, why not? She's my best friend."

"You're adopted." Mary declared.

"You're possessive." Norah shot back.

"_I_ am possessive?" Mary asked incredulously. "No, that would be _Abigail._"

And with that, she recounted one particular incident that had pissed her off.

It was Norah's first birthday, Marshall and Abigail had given her the present, and Abigail had graciously offered Jinx to help cut the cake and set the table. Everything was going great. Till the clock struck eight and Abigail politely declared they had to go and they were so sorry that they couldn't stay for dinner.

Why? Mary later learnt she had picked that very day to meet a friend. And apparently this was her way of teaching Marshall to share their lives and do equals. And apparently Marshall was a wuss with no backbone.

She had applied for her transfer the next day. But she didn't tell anybody that part, ever.

"Okay, Abigail is a bitch." Norah inferred. "But what did _Marshall _do wrong?"

And that led to her recollection of another incident. There weren't many things in this world that Mary Shannon was afraid of. But after a particularly bad chase where a witness's dress got caught in the escalator and she had to hit the emergency stop and cover the witness and have a gun-fight with the perps following them and take a bullet to the shoulder and almost fall off the escalator down to the bottom when she accidentally started it again during the fight, yeah, she kind of preferred the stairs. Marshall had been very understanding, not protesting when she called him a pussy for suggesting she sought treatment for PTSD and letting her cling on to his shirt sleeve when they had to take an escalator. If there was one person on this world that she trusted, it was Marshall, and she knew he would catch her if she fell.

It was a few weeks before their wedding. Abigail insisted they all go shopping for Mary's dress. Marshall bribed her with a year's worth coffee to make her saw yes, and so she went. She suffered through the two hours, watching the two talk so damn adorably that it made her want to strike every inch of Marshall's skin with insulin injections, and when they tried to small talk with her, she ignored them by pretending to be texting someone. During the dinner that Abigail had also insisted on, Marshall had strategically sat between the two women on the round table, trying to chatter with both and make them realize that they were both equally important to him in their own different ways. Of course he had failed. Idiot. Mary thanked God that she could never read what in the world of unicorns and rainbows Abigail was thinking about, but as far as she was concerned, she could do away with her best friend's divided attention and desperate attempts to show that he still cared and he wasn't slipping away and she wasn't losing him. Newsflash: that's the first indication that it's happening, moron!

But this wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when they had to take an escalator down. Mary had assumed she would be allowed to clutch on to Marshall's sleeves as usual, surely a detective like Abigail who has been in gun-fights enough times would understand.

Of course not. "Mary, I want you to overcome your fears. I want you to take the escalator alone today." Marshall had said.

She had stared at him incredulously, hoping he was just joking, realized he was dead serious, looked at Abigail for help and got a "hey, I'm staying out of this, this is between you and your best friend" shrug instead, held back the "You bitch, _you_ are between me and my best friend and you're interfering in every damn thing" retort with much difficulty, and had been too mad to be scared and stepped on the escalator by herself.

The fear of falling didn't scare her now. The fact that she was on her own did. All these years, Marshall had been there for her, through thick and thin. And now he was abandoning her? Just like that? Just for some girl?

She did it. She landed on her feet. Of course, she did. She's Mary fucking Shannon. Her whole life is a burning house of cards, and all she damn well knows is how to survive on her own. Fuck Marshall.

"And I never turned to him for help again." Mary finished.

Norah understood the problem perfectly. And she had a perfect solution. "You should make lunch for him every day. Maybe he'll die from poisoning if you get lucky."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry."<p>

She wasn't expecting an apology. Specially after all these years. "You'll have to be more specific, Marshall." She sighed. "Is this about the time you bored me to sleep with your Game of Thrones summary?"

Marshall shook his head, getting straight to the point. "I'm sorry for pushing you away when you needed me, with Norah and-"

She held up her hand to stop him. "-Let's both just agree to blame Abigail."

Marshall wanted to point out how it was his mistake, how if she was a guy, he wouldn't have had to ask her to let him go, how he should never have anyway. "Does that mean you forgive me?" He asked instead.

"Of course not." She said quickly. "You'll give me a raise."

"No." He said just as quickly.

"And Patrick a paid vacation so he can take the family to Hawaii. And don't dare let a single soul know I asked for this or I swear, Marshall, I'll tell everyone about the time you bought the Amish pajama dress."

"No." He repeated.

"Oh, and grow a giant moustache that curls at the tips? You still _have_ your curling iron, right?"

"No."

"You don't have it? What did you-"

"-Mary!"

And the thing is, she's not one for forgiving and forgetting, oh hell no. She's gonna hold her grudges till her very last breathe and if there is an afterlife, then during that as well. But over the last few years, she's seen enough people do wonders with their second chances to want to believe in second chances. Jinx got an award for her school. Brandi and Peter are having a baby. Mark is a great dad- the adult parent, surprisingly. So yeah.

Okay.

* * *

><p>"<em>We forget sometimes how much the world can hurt. It can hurt people we love, people we don't, people caught in the middle, even people who would give anything if they could just never ever get hurt again, but sometimes the hurt can't be avoided. It's coming at us and can't be stopped. It's in us and can't be seen, or it's lying next to us in the dark, waiting but sometimes it doesn't come at all. Sometimes we get this other thing that flutters down out of nowhere and stays long enough to give us hope. Sometimes, rarely, barely, but just when we need it the most and expect it the least, we get a break."<em>


End file.
